Toward a Historical Synthesis of the Black Struggle for Inclusion in Christian Communities

for the last three decades, religious historians have been crafting narratives about the struggles of African Americans to fully enter into and participate in White religious communities. That historiography has told a similar story. Despite good intentions, White church bodies—whether Presbyterian, Methodist, Mennonite, Moravian, Roman Catholic, or Baptist—segregated their churches in some form. Mennonites did it. So did Moravians. Methodists definitely did. Catholics as well.In response, African Americans who had found their way into these church bodies pushed back against ecclesial barriers. Together with White allies, they called their co-believers to their best selves—almost always by appealing to their respective church communion's central theological claims—and were awarded with full membership.With varying degrees of success, these fully integrated church members achieved belonging and inclusion despite ongoing exclusionary practices. Cultural assumptions, worship styles, conflict dynamics, and familial connections countered claims of racial inclusion. Yet, in most instances, African Americans prevailed with varying degrees of success. Rather than declension narratives, most of the stories follow a rising arc as African Americans entered into church leadership, increased congregational membership, and contributed to missional endeavors. Some version of Martin Luther King Jr.’s notion of the “beloved community” is ultimately evoked, if not directly then in the story's resolution.Of course, historians in these published accounts contributed to our understandings of the shifting nature of ecclesial barriers, the connections of religious identity to regional location, the entrenched nature of White supremacy in twentieth-century Christian communities, and the nature of activism inside church sanctuaries. Those contributions have and continue to prove valuable to the study of race and religion writ large and the history of anti-Blackness, institutional racism, and White supremacist theology within Christian communities in particular.What do we then make of yet another study of African Americans striving to find a place of their own within a majority-White Christian community? In this case, Matthew L. Harris has written a thorough account of the struggle of Black Mormons as they sought to achieve full membership in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints during the half-century prior to 1978. On that date, LDS Church President Spencer W. Kimball “reached a consensus with church apostles to grant Black people full inclusion in the church” (xiii). In so doing, he and his fellow leaders overturned the LDS Church's ban against Black men being ordained into the church's all-male lay priesthood and against all Black people from having access to the temple rites necessary for the highest level of salvation. As Harris's title makes clear, Black people in Mormonism were clearly second-class members.Before comparing Harris's capable study with similar histories of Black struggle for racial equality in Christian communities, an assessment of the text on its own offers an orientation to the book's considerable achievements as well as a few issues of concern. Harris frames his argument around the human factors leading to the overturning of the bans. Rather than describing a divine revelation, Harris explicates the “plot twists and turns and contingent moments” (xi) leading up to the decision. He extends his narrative both backward and forward in time to set straight the record of the ban's origins—primarily due to Brigham Young's policies rather than Joseph Smith's—and to follow the story through to the Black Lives Matter movement and its aftermath.Harris relates his tale with remarkable clarity, frankness, and detail. Having gained access to key church documents, he packs his book with rich detail about the kinds, intensity, and range of debates that took place among the church's powerful White male leaders. Most principally, Harris shows that the simplistic tale of President Kimball overturning the ban after being threatened with removal of tax-exempt status by President Jimmy Carter could not have happened (243) as was reported at the time and then repeated by scholars.1 Harris expands his evidentiary base through an impressive array of oral histories and interviews with Black Mormons, both those who currently practice and those who left the church.As a narrative, the story is well told. Harris employs interesting details, anecdotes, and personality descriptions while capably documenting the historical events at play. In the process, he provides strong historical contextualization. Readers learn of the concomitant historical events unfolding in the country as Mormons struggled to overturn centuries of racially exclusionary practice. We discover the implications of George Romney's run for the 1968 Republican nomination as well as the consequence of his son Mitt Romney's run in 2012. The effects of the Black Power movement on Black Mormons are similarly made clear. Although the outcome is known from the onset, the intricacies of how Mormons came to reject the temple and priesthood ban make for an arresting read.From the outset, Harris claims to privilege Black Mormon perspectives. In his discussion of events from 1969 forward, he does so consistently and draws on a variety of perspectives, including “dark-skinned Africans and light-skinned Brazilians, Motown singers, former Black Panthers, and civil rights organizations like the NAACP” (xiv). However, his discussion of earlier events features far fewer perspectives from Black LDS Church members. Despite amplifying the voices of those most affected by the racism of the church, the narrative nonetheless cleaves closest to White male leaders.He is more consistent in examining international missions’ influence on the ban's overturn. Missionaries tied themselves in theological knots trying to explain to Brazilian and Nigerian converts why they bore a curse from the “lineage of Cain and Ham” (187) and thus had to accept an inferior position in the church. Coupled with outright bans on priesthood and other temple rites, these barriers to evangelism loomed large. Harris provides ample evidence of the pressures placed by missionaries on church leaders to permanently remove those barriers.Second-Class Saints carefully explicates the theological intricacies of the ban itself and the adjacent sacred texts that undergirded that position. At the grassroots level, White Mormons used the same texts employed by segregationists and white supremacists to support racial degradation. In addition to Cain's murder of his brother Abel and Ham's viewing of Noah's nakedness, Mormons also referenced the narrative of a curse placed on the Lamanites (whom Latter-day Saints defined as North America's Indigenous peoples) for their betrayal in a premortal battle, one that turned their skin dark.2 Only “righteous living and moral purity” would make them White again (71). When coupled with most Mormon's socialization in “overwhelmingly White Mormon communities in Utah, Idaho, and Arizona” (130), this theologically informed racism reinforced the anti-Black mindset found in the segregated neighborhoods and towns where White Mormons lived.In addition, Harris identifies the primary theologians who perpetuated the church's race-based theology. Joseph Fielding Smith, in particular, had an outsized role in articulating that perspective in the church (19–20, 99–100, 212–13). Harris documents both the extent of Smith's influence and others’ efforts to refute him. In so doing, the role of White scriptural scholars at Brigham Young University (BYU) in both furthering that doctrine (296–300) and challenging it (47, 340) becomes clear. In the same way, national church leader Hugh B. Brown, who opposed the ban, appears as one of the story's heroes (89, 93–94).Harris's skill in penning accessible explanations of heterodox Mormon theological positions also speaks to his desire to reach a broad audience. A reader need not have any prior background in Mormon history to follow the controversies or appreciate the power of theological positions to maintain racial subordination in the church even after the ban had been lifted. Harris also clearly explains Mormon ecclesiology and simplifies naming conventions to allow for a streamlined assessment of the church's hierarchy.Second-Class Saints cannot, however, be called intersectional. Harris makes passing mention of “Mormon feminists” and their request that President Kimball extend the priesthood to all women (232), but such exploration is fleeting. When describing the church's leadership structure, Harris fails to mention that only men can hold church-wide priesthood positions (xxi). This failure to identify gender dynamics is nonetheless consistent throughout the book, a particular irony given that “second-class saints” applies as accurately to White women as to Black women and men.Taken on its own, Harris's monograph is thus an essential, capably argued examination of the history of overturning the ban on Black inclusion in the Mormon priesthood and temple rites. Well-written, deeply researched, and carefully conceived, it is an important addition to the historiography of Mormon race relations.But it also appears in a long line of similar texts that document the experience of Black members of majority White Christian communions. Positioning Second-Class Saints in the historical treatments of three other groups—for illustrative purposes, Baptists, Methodists, and Quakers—reveals several additional strengths of the monograph as well as a few shortcomings.3In 2001, Mark Newman's Getting Right with God: Southern Baptists and Desegregation, 1945–1995 (University of Alabama Press, 2001) evaluated the Southern Baptist Convention (SBC)’s approach to questions of racial segregation. Newman offered the same kind of thorough research and capable storytelling as Harris. Newman's central interest is in demonstrating the role of religious conviction in the SBC's response to the civil rights movement (x, 48). Although he acknowledges that Southern Baptists generally followed the regional, generational, and political patterns around them (150, 166–67, 205), he shows how their religious beliefs moved the majority of southern Baptists toward accepting desegregation (ix–x, 20, 205). Under Newman's capable scrutiny, the notion of a White southern Baptist monolith quickly dissipates as he documents the considerable influence of progressives and moderates within the SBC (65).Newman also pays attention to events that unfolded in the aftermath of the Supreme Court's 1954 Brown v. Board of Education decision. As the title indicates, he documents a drop-off among Protestant mainline denominations in racial issues from the 1970s through 1995 (189, 191). Harris extends his gaze through 2024, but he cannot yet offer a historical analysis of that era, given his temporal proximity to it.Compared with Newman, Harris's text thus stands out in one key area. He, unlike Newman, had to explain the complexities of both Mormon theology and ecclesiology. The theological texts employed by Southern Baptists simply do not require the same kind of detailed explanation of, for instance, tests of faith that take place before mortality as detailed in Mormon beliefs.In the same way, Newman did not have to recount a decision frequently described as a divine revelation. In Second-Class Saints, Harris invests considerable time in debunking the idea that Kimball and the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles heard an audible voice, saw a divine presence, or were otherwise dramatically visited from beyond the grave by church founder Joseph Smith (238). He demonstrates that Kimball and his counselors worked diligently to counter the spiritually histrionic stories that soon circulated. As described by Harris, the final decision had far more to do with church politics, internal lobbying, and personal persuasion than with divine intervention.Moreover, Harris—unlike Newman—had to counter spurious accounts that found their way into scholarly treatments of the ban's overturning. For example, an essay in the Journal of Blacks in Higher Education accepted without comment that “the revelation came down almost moments after Kimball had spent more than one half hour talking to President Jimmy Carter about the government's proposed reconsideration of the Church's tax-exempt status due to its discrimination against blacks.”4 Harris capably debunks the timing, sequence, and content of Kimball's meeting with Carter and shows that IRS laws about private institutions “discriminating ‘on the basis of race’” were not put into effect until after January 1981. The IRS could not have threatened legal action against the LDS Church as no law yet existed that would make their racially discriminatory practices illegal (244).The Methodist history with discriminatory practices received careful attention with the 2004 publication of Peter C. Murray's Methodists and the Crucible of Race, 1930–1975 (University of Missouri Press, 2004). In this monograph, Murray describes how the United Methodist Church moved from a racially segregated to a racially inclusive institution.His narrative begins with the assertion that Methodists originally supported racially integrated congregations but quickly opted for white “brotherhood” and a pattern of racial segregation (26). Following the Civil War, a unified Methodist church established a separate but equal “Central Jurisdiction” for Black churches (52). As racial activism increased—which Murray presents as the primary driving force behind changes in the Methodist community—and in the aftermath of Brown, Methodist leaders adopted a cautious plan in 1960 to end the Central Jurisdiction (115).Murray also shows how African American Methodists pushed the church not just to end de jure segregation but also the practice of institutional racism (117). White Southern Methodists slowed down the transition process even as a merger with the Evangelical United Brethren in 1968 effectively ended segregation (165). Like Harris and Newman, Murray documents the challenges that followed—removing racist structures, improving “racial harmony and fellowship” (200), and preparing the church to take part in efforts to change society (201). He also notes that White Methodist leaders balked when the 1969 Black Manifesto called for reparations (212–14). He describes, in particular, a buyout proposed by the Methodist Board of Education that was rejected by the Black Methodist Association (214). Murray concludes his work by excoriating the Methodist church for doing too little, too late, and for allowing society to lead them forward (232–233).Even a cursory comparison of these Methodist and Mormon histories reveals a striking difference. Murray, in short, proffers an overarching interpretive scheme. In Crucible, he structures his narrative around two myths. The first of those—the Great Myth—claimed that anti-Black discrimination did not exist, that social conditions for African Americans had improved, and that outside agitation was unnecessary to effect additional change. The Great Myth also held that African Americans should assimilate to White norms and offer White leaders deference and gratitude. Lastly, the Great Myth asserted that racial problems existed only in the South.On the other hand, the Southern Myth maintained that segregation was an American institution, national in scope, and supported by Christian doctrine. Any change should proceed slowly—and under the direction of benevolent White leaders. The Southern Myth also maintained that outside agitators were the only ones responsible for racial conflict (79). Murray argues that Methodists were caught between these two myths as they publicly opposed the Southern Myth even while segregating their church by establishing the Black-only Central Jurisdiction (80).This interpretive scheme effectively cuts through the clutter of historical ephemera while also explaining Methodists’ divergent views and, at times, contradictory practices. It also provides a framework for assessing other majority White religious communities. Whether due to the theological particularities of the Mormon community or Harris's interests as a historian, readers find no such incisive framework in Second-Class Citizens. The arguments made by Harris hold significant import for Mormon historiography but, in this instance, lack the interpretive reach evident in Murray's work.In the case of the Society of Friends, Allan W. Austin's Quaker Brotherhood: and the American (University of Press, a history than that offered by Murray, Newman, or Harris. for their in the as well as their to the of have been as race As however, have to this by just as excoriating them as “racial for their racially religious communities Rather than the of African Americans into the Quaker community and the concomitant removal of racial and he the in between racial in and racist he those among makes several additional For example, he notes how the work of and the efforts at racism as work on one the other At the same notes the failure of to support the long Black He also the in the American from racism as an to describing it as an institutional is with demonstrating the of religious communities to twentieth-century history He also to that social and in the efforts to in social activism In addition, speaks to the lack of on twentieth-century White the need for including that story as part of the civil rights by Quaker grassroots activism is to in the between activism and the civil rights work in also to Harris appears to be more about how his work be received within the religious community he A of who has written about the Mormon Harris has connections within the Latter-day community and of that theology and political That however, for about the book's He not only notes that his to or when he but that he readers take at the book's account of the LDS Church's history with these and personal connections with the of his it is no that Harris would be about the of his He to the evidence he has even if it challenges and accounts about Kimball's revelation. the of among both and Mormons, both to the highest of historical in the of both internal and is of course, be study of of examination of the of of racism with the with in the Matthew work on the influence of Black in the on as a and of Southern White during the civil rights movement all make valuable contributions to the analysis of African Americans and the White people they in Christian like Second-Class Saints, have contributed to our of the of and the Black the texts their in the to the need for a of the We have yet to a work that texts like these fully into is any consistent all these it is to a do not fully position their in the of was on in other religious communities. We have historical to do that fully the and of efforts to achieve full anti-Black racism, and White supremacy in Christian such a be questions be for up the of a like how did these efforts to racial issues with other efforts to by and how do these accounts of the struggles of African Americans within White majority religious to those of the and Americans inside those same can be comparing this of about African Americans in White Christian communities to that of Black in the of as well as religious like the and other such a text like Harris's Second-Class Saints nonetheless continue to our historical base in and